Unreality
by chocolatebearturk
Summary: Macy's imagination has always been over-active. Kacy. JONAS. 1SHOT.


**UN**_reality_

p-o-t-r

_Dedication—to Hayley, for making sure that I don't need imaginary friends to keep me company. And I think she'll appreciate the pairing in this one. ;)_

-

I'm just going to come out with it: my fangirl fantasies have always been lame, even by fangirl standards. They're just not _normal_.

For example: some girls talk about how they get lost looking into the eyes of a JONAS poster and they'll be swept away by imaginary Joes, Nicks, or Kevins. Some involve kissing, others involve things that just plain _aren't gonna happen_, and still others involve, well, romantic stuff like cuddling and flowers and cheesy pick-up lines.

Well, my fantasies have always consisted of… best-friend stuff.

Most people are scared away by my ferocity on the field. I can understand that. My intensity when I'm playing a sport can be a little intimidating, just like walking up to one of the Lucas brothers can sometimes still dry out my mouth or like asking Stella for the bio homework can be a little scary if she's just had a fight with Joe. So it's a little hard for me to make friends. And I get that. I guess that's why I ended up replacing real people with imaginary ones.

In my fangirl fantasies, Joe took the place of the computer when I played video games. He was a bit of a sore loser, but mostly gracious when he won. I pretended that Kevin watched me as I raced around the kitchen preparing dinner. I made jokes to an empty stool and laughed at the imagined responses. Whenever I found myself practicing or just plain playing sports alone in the backyard, Nick was always my opponent. He encouraged me when I missed or messed up a play and never made fun of me like my teammates did.

Looking back on it, it seems like I was a lonely kid, but I really wasn't. My fantasies were (mostly) realistic and kept my mind busy while things were happening around me. And if they were a sign of an unhealthy mind, then I must still be unhealthy. Because I'm glaring at an imaginary Joe Lucas.

"That's my last bowl of Cocoa Puffs you're eating," I coldly inform him.

He shrugs and shoves another spoonful in his mouth.

I roll my eyes. Probably the only drawback of knowing the boys is that their imaginary counterparts became more realistic. Joe now gloats insufferably when he wins a game and pouts unbearably when he loses. Nick is oddly quiet when I practice, merely fixing me with a disappointed look whenever I mess up, but giving me praise and smiling when I get something right. And Kevin… well, Kevin hasn't changed too much. His jokes are a little lamer, but also funnier in a way. And he makes sure to laugh at every joke I tell, unlike before when he would sometimes raise his eyebrows at a particularly horrible pun.

"It's payment for my profound wisdom," he says thickly, crunching down on another bite of chocolate-y goodness.

I snort. "It's my sacrifice for help I could've gotten from a fortune cookie." I give him another glare. "Why am I imagining you here to help me instead of Nick? He's better about relationships."

"Beats me," says a voice behind me. I turn and find that Nick is coming in from the backyard. He leans a baseball bat against the wall and sends a curious glance at me and the still-crunching Joe before he comes over to join us at the table. "I've been waiting for you to come out there," he says to me. "Is _this_ the hold up?"

He points a thumb at Joe, who has begun drinking his milk prematurely. He stops slurping for a moment and I can see that there are little cereal puffs sticking to his face.

"Sort of," I say. After a moment, I sigh and lean an elbow on the table. "I just… don't feel like playing today."

"Don't feel like…" Nick breathes, unable to even finish the sentence. The next thing I know, both he and Joe are out of their chairs and Joe's arm is around my waist and Nick's arm is around my shoulders. They both give me a squeeze of support and I can _almost_ feel it.

"What's wrong, Macy?" Joe asks softly.

Nick leans his head against mine and rubs my arm. "You needed relationship help, right? Which relationship is giving you trouble?"

"Is it Stella?" Even my imaginary Joe is concerned about my best friend. I shake my head, smiling faintly.

"My relationship with Stella is perfectly fine," I say. Nick glares at Joe and gives him a quick smack on the back of his head. Joe's arm unwinds from around my waist and he stalks back over to his cereal, offended by the lack of sympathy on my part. I hardly notice, just leaning more on a Nick that isn't really there.

"Is it us?" he asks gently. I nod, trying to muffle a sniffle. "Us as a group or us individually?"

"A little of both," I admit. My lower lip is starting to quiver and I _know_ I'm going to cry. God, why do my imaginary JONAI have to be so perceptive?

There's a crash from the kitchen and all of a sudden Kevin is stumbling toward the table, looking horror-stricken. "OHMYGOD, I am _so_ sorry I'm late!" He quickly sits down in the seat Joe vacated and wraps his arm around my waist. "I didn't miss anything, right?"

"She's upset about her relationships with the three of us," Nick says. Kevin lets out a little 'aw' and smoothes some of my hair away from my face.

"What's there to be upset about, Macy? You've gotten so much better about being around us lately." Kevin gives me a squeeze that, again, is _almost_ tangible. "I know for a fact that you haven't fainted for three weeks."

If I close my eyes and concentrate, I can _almost_ feel Kevin's hand covering mine, and his broad, calloused thumb running over my skin. If I try to ignore everything else—how silent the house really is, the cold air where the boys' arms should be, the fact that my last bowl of Cocoa Puffs is still resting in the box in the kitchen—I can _almost_ convince myself that Joe really is shoveling more cereal in his mouth and that two-thirds of JONAS are actually making me into a celebrity-fan sandwich.

"I'm just…" I begin. After a moment, I reach up to wipe away the tears that have managed to leak past my guard. I sniffle and try to regain control. "I've gotten better about the fangirl behavior, but…"

"But?" Nick gives me a shake and I giggle a little.

"But I've gotten kind of invisible. You three have such a tight bond with Stella that I have to force myself into the group," I say, smiling faintly. "And it just gets a little lonely, being the odd one out. I mean, when I was fangirling and stuff, at least you noticed that I was there. I stood by Kevin's locker today for five minutes trying to think of something to say to him and he never even noticed."

Kevin makes a sympathetic noise and squeezes me, leaning close to press his cheek to mine. "I'm sorry, Mace."

"Yeah," his voice says again, this time on my other side. I turn to see that Nick has transformed into another Kevin. A glance across the table shows me that Joe is gone and so is the bowl of Cocoa Puffs. A hand on my hair makes me look up and I see that a third Kevin is standing behind me, a sympathetic smile on his face. The third Kevin says, "You know we'd never try to hurt you, right?"

"Of course," I say, leaning into his imagined touch. "You're Kevin."

The boys sitting on either side of me give me a squeeze. There's another crash in the kitchen and a fourth Kevin comes into view—this one is wearing a chef's hat. "How about I make you some Crunchy Cats cereal to cheer you up?"

Before I can reply, there's a knock on the door. Distracted as I am by my crazy fantasy, I don't notice that it's a bit more solid and… _real_ than the sounds I've been listening to for the past hour. I disentangle myself from the imaginary Kevins and cross to the door. When I open it and see Kevin standing outside in the drizzle that must have just started a minute ago, it doesn't strike me that, while all of my imaginary Kevins are wearing the same outfit (the striped shirt and white pants he wore so long ago at the store), this one is wearing a leather jacket dewed with rainwater and a pair of those mind-blowing skinny jeans. The fact that he is slightly wet from the drizzle escapes me. He opens his mouth to speak, but I run over him.

"Hey, come on in and join the party," I say, giving him a false smile. This is the fifth Kevin to appear and it's starting to hurt. I can imagine a billion of them coming to comfort me, but it would take a miracle to get the real one here. "I knew I shouldn't have watched that _Paranoid_ video last night before bed—but who can resist multiple Kevins, right?" I laugh, but it's a hollow sound.

This Kevin is speechless and kind of frozen on the front step, so I just roll my eyes and begin to close the door. If he's anything like the others, he'll just materialize behind me. But this one sticks his foot in the door and it actually stops. What…?

"Macy, what are you talking about? Multiple Kevins?" Now he eases the door open on his own, something he should _not_ be able to do.

I cast a glance over my shoulder—there are the other Kevins, staring at us in shock. I point to the one in the doorway, asking a silent question. The first Kevin shakes his head and I go pale, turning back. I reach out a tentative hand and lay it on his arm. I don't have to concentrate, I don't have to close my eyes, I don't have to block out the rest of the world—I can _feel_ the leather of his sleeve under my fingers. I can _feel_ the arm inside the jacket.

This Kevin is _real_.

"What are you doing here?" I ask, incredulous. I don't let go of his arm, slightly afraid that if I do, he'll disappear like the four behind me have. "How do you even know where I live?"

"I asked Stella," Kevin says, giving me a questioning look. "I was worried about you because you were so quiet at school today."

"W-what?" I stammer. Kevin flinches when my grip tightens and I let go of his arm in a hurry. "Sorry," I mumble. I start to turn away, determined to find someplace I can sit before I collapse to the floor. But he won't have any of that and takes my arm instead.

"Are you okay, Macy? I know that I shouldn't have run off without talking to you today, but I needed to make sure I got my make-up test to Mr. Green…" The world seems to have taken a nose-dive straight into unreality, because I could swear that Kevin Lucas, the unknowing love of my life, is closing my front door behind him and ushering me to the couch, all the while apologizing to me for some terrible crime he seems to have committed against me.

I rub my forehead, feeling the incessant pound of an oncoming migraine. "This is the _weirdest_ dream I have ever had." Because that's what it _has_ to be. I'm probably slumped over the dining room table right now, drooling and letting my last bowl of Cocoa Puffs get soggy. I mean, there's no way Kevin Lucas is actually in my house.

"Dream?" His adorable face scrunches up in an even more adorable confused look and I have to smile. My imagination is good at what it does, I have to say that. Because I can see every detail—the wrinkle of his nose and the lines on his forehead and the crinkle around his eyes. Absentmindedly, I reach out a hand and brush my fingers over his forehead, watching as it smoothes under my touch.

"I have to be dreaming," I say softly, drawing my hand back after a moment. My smile fades and I can tell that he's wondering whether I'm talking to him or myself. "Because this stuff just doesn't happen to me. The guy never chases after me—he usually falls in love with the heroine and I'm left to get over it."

"You're not the heroine?" he asks. There's concern and sadness in his voice and it feels so _good_ to pretend. I almost lie and say that yes, I am, just to end this and get back to reality. But I can't. I can't lie to him, even if none of this is real.

I shake my head. "If my life were a music video, I'd probably be a back-up dancer. Or I'd be a chorus member in the musical of me. Someone else's story always seems to take the spotlight. And, honestly, that's okay. But it would be nice to be the star—just for a little bit."

"I think you're a star," Kevin says now, smiling at me in that way that makes my heart melt. _Damn_, my brain can conjure up some convincing images. His arm wraps around my shoulders and it all just feels so _real_. But it's not.

"You're forgetting—this is a dream," I tell him. His brow furrows again and I sigh. "Here, I'll prove it. The _real_ Kevin would pull away and run from my house screaming if I did this." And without another word about it, I press my lips to his.

He gasps and pulls away immediately and my heart skips a beat. Is it possible?

And then he comes back, kissing me with a hunger that I've never experienced. Like I said, I don't do normal fangirl fantasies. My _dreams_ may get a little racy, but that's usually on my part and not on his. Kevin is always… patient and gentle. Nothing like this. He makes a sound in the back of his throat and it sends chills down my spine as his hands, his big, glorious hands, find my waist and pull me onto his lap. His tongue rakes over my lip and I respond with a sound I didn't know I was capable of making.

And then his hand slides into my hair.

And a lock of my hair snags on my earring.

And the earring tugs and there's a sensation in my earlobe that I shouldn't be having.

_Pain_.

"Oh, no!" I whine. I pull my face away from his and hide it in my hands. I try to get up from Kevin's lap, but his arms are still locked firmly around me and he won't let go. As a matter of fact, he seems downright miffed that I've pulled away. One of his hands takes mine and pulls them away from my face.

"What's wrong, Macy?" he asks.

I just stare at him in abject horror and finally say, "This isn't a dream, is it?"

He shakes his head and I can feel my face crumpling up as the tears come. There's shock and concern in his voice now. "Hey, hey," he murmurs, stroking my cheek. "Why the tears? Shouldn't you be happy?"

"Happy?" I blink furiously and reach up to rub at my nose, which is burning harshly. "I just _kissed_ you. I've ruined _everything_."

"So it doesn't matter that I kissed you back?" he asks. "With embarrassing enthusiasm?"

"Well, I…" I stop, realizing that I hadn't gotten around to processing that part yet. So I do. I spend several seconds mulling over that fact—the way he was kissing me and the way I was reacting. Of course, while I'm doing that, he decides that now is a good time to nibble at my earlobe. His breath, warm against my skin, is making it really hard to make a fair assessment. His lips dip down and kiss the vein in my neck, where he can clearly feel my pulse racing. I gasp when I feel his hand sliding up my spine underneath my shirt.

"K-Kevin…" I stammer. "What are you…?"

"Shhh," he murmurs in my ear. I feel a shiver roll down my spine and his breath tickles my ear again as he lets out a single chuckle. "Stop thinking about it. Quit worrying."

"B-but—" I stop when he brushes hair away from my face, and turns me toward him.

"This is real," he says. His broad, callused thumb runs across my cheek. "And I'm not going anywhere."

-

Fun Fact: This story was originally called Cocoa Puffs and was inspired when I stole my little brother's last bowl of off-brand Reese's Puffs because I was having chocolate cravings and the cereal was literally the only chocolate in the house.

a/n: Everyone give thanks to Kolirox, for helping me with the end. I knew that I wanted it to be a weensy bit racy, but she really helped me pull it off. :) Thanks, sweets! You were fantabulous.

I haven't been good about posting lately and I apologize—school and my collabs with Hayley have been taking up all my time. But fear not! There's more new stuff coming very soon.

I'm working on BREATHE and I've made myself a promise: I won't post the second chapter till I finish writing the fourth. And that's about 500 words away, so don't worry. :)

Love, love, and more love,  
Babs.


End file.
